Nightlight
by smellslikechidna
Summary: [part 4? up - on hiatus] Ash is changing, and eventually, something will have to break. Or bleed.
1. Raaaaaargh

Nightlight

For Rachel (pf14)

Nightlight

"Night, you guys,"

"G'night, Brock, Ash… *squeal* Togepi. See you guys in the morning!"

"Night Misty. Um, 'night, Brock, Pikachu… *shudder* Togepi…"

Ash leaned back on his arms, looking up at the infinite black and blue that was night. Grey wisps of clouds floated on by, occasionally blotting some small shades of moonlight from shining on his face, casting navy hues against the ebony hair that fell in every direction. 

"Nice night, huh, Pikachu?" he asked, turning his head slightly to the little yellow mouse who sat next to him, her green, lightning-bolt blanket snuggled around her shoulders.

"Chuuu…" she nodded. "Pika chu Pikachu."

"I guess."

Ash tilted his neck back, wincing when he felt the top of his spine click in protest and watched as tiny silver sequins began to sparkle against the sky. Reaching a hand up, he gingerly touched the sticky-plasters Brock had applied an hour before with some killer antiseptic that was worse than the 'heat-cream' his mom used when he was eight and twisted his ankle in a fight with Gary (Which he won, he added proudly. By making Gary run home crying for his mommy with a well-aimed kick where no eight-year-old should be kicked). Heat was an understatement. The cream got under his skin and torched the flesh underneath, singeing and burning everything it got its slimy grip onto.

It was his own fault, he reflected. He was the one who ran blindly into the first cave he saw to find a shelter, and it was his own fault that he yelled "Hey guys! I think this one's clear!", waking up the swarm of Zubat that's nesting place Ash had just invaded, and it was his own fault he got bitten, by an angry momma-Zubat.

"Pikapi?"

Ash looked down at Pikachu, who had crawled into his lap worriedly, her blanket hanging, forgotten, from her tail, caught on the jagged lightning bolt that sprouted from her back, giving hint that if you messed with her… you… would have a shock. "What's wrong?"

"Piiii" she replied, climbing further up his pyjama shirt and pointing at where his hand was rubbing the bite. When he pulled his hand away, he was shocked. Dark crimson seeped into every line and crease on his hand, and dripped down, making a brown patch on his green sleeping bag. A trickling sensation crawled down his neck, and he rubbed it on the back of his other hand, which returned with even more red stuff and goo that had escaped through the small plasters on his neck. Pikachu was terrified – her beloved friend and trainer looked like an extra from the _Scream_ trilogy.

"Wh-" he gulped, and took a deep breath, trying to calm the panic that was swiftly rising through his chest, "What's going on?" he managed to blurt out, before loss of blood swirled his head and he blacked out, amid shrieks from a frightened Pikachu.

~v~V~v~

"Multiple punctures of the aorta, severe artery lacerations, extreme blood loss, and you thought you could wrap it up with a bit of lotion and a band-aid?!"

Brock cringed under the thunderous Doctor's tirade. Normally it was HIM yelling at SOMEONE ELSE…

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think it was that bad," he replied, honestly. He DIDN'T think it was that bad. All he had seen was a little scratch mark – or what _looked_ like a scratch mark. Apparently, Zubat have canine teeth that sink extremely deep, but barely leave a mark. Brock made a mental note to take HIS Zubat to the dentist…

"Well, you were lucky you got your little friend here in time. Another hour or so, and he wouldn't have made it. Funny though," the doctor chuckled, "I've never seen a Zubat bite start to heal before it started to bleed like that."

"Excuse me?"

"Normally," the Doctor, second cousin-in-Law to the Doctor Proctor they'd helped with the influx of Pokémon patients in a human hospital, "when a Zubat has punctured an artery such as the aorta – that big one in your neck – the victim starts bleeding instantaneously, but your little friend Ash had already started to scab up before it bled. Most unusual."

"Oh." Brock blinked, completely oblivious to what the heck the doctor meant. _Change subject – NOW!_ "How is Ash, by the way?"

The doctor chuckled again, as he turned to leave. "He's already awake, the little tyke. He's with his girlfriend now. Room 13. He's a tough one…"

"Thanks," Brock called to the doctor, before setting off to Ash's room, hopefully finding a few nurses on the way.

_Girlfriend?!_

~v~V~v~

"So, how d'ya feel?"

"Lousy, you?"

Misty giggled, and ruffled Ash's hair in the way that always annoyed him, but he couldn't do anything about it, in case the IV that was feeding the last pint of blood into his veins was broken or accidentally pulled out.

"Hey, knock it off! I'm sick here! Show some sympathy!" he joked, grinning and batting her away with his hands. "You didn't even get me a magazine!" he pouted, popping a grape into his mouth, before chucking his pillow at her.

Brock grinned as he stuck his head around the door to Ash's room. Now he saw what the Doctor was getting at. _They'd make a cute couple…_

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked, good-naturedly, as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him with a click and tossing a random magazine he saw in the hospital shop with a picture of a Pikachu, Raichu and a Pichu on the front; _Electric Shock Monthly_. Ash made a grab for the magazine, before it was held tauntingly away from him by Misty, before she smiled, giggled and passed it back. "Feeling better?" he asked, "Pikachu was really worried about you – you looked like Count Dracula!"

"Not funny. How's Pikachu, anyway? Wouldn't they let her in here?"

"Considering she Thundershocked three nurses and an intern…" Ash rolled his eyes – Pikachu always did get slightly over-panicked, "So she's at the Pokémon Centre now with the rest of our Pokémon – Joy said she needed a good bath; she was practically red when we got her there. I offered to put her in a Pokéball, and bring her in, but according to Vulpix, she said 'Pikapi, or no Pikapi. If he puts me in a Pokéball, I'll make sure he never has kids', so… you get the picture."

Conversation went on between the three for a few minutes, until a slightly charred nurse stuck her head through the door, and politely informed Brock and Misty that visiting hours were over. Brock said 'See ya later, squirt. Get better soon, k? But not _too_ soon, I think I'm getting somewhere with that nurse…', before strolling out, and walking in the same direction as the nurse and the wrong direction of the exit.

Misty stood up, brushed off her shorts, before leaning over and hugging Ash gently – something he never would have expected from _her_ of all people, "You get better fast, ya hear?"

Ash laughed quietly, "Okay, okay, I will, I promise, okay? I never break a promise!"

"Oh yeah? You **promised** me about a certain b-"

"Waaaa! Mistyyyy! C'mon, gimme a break! I'm sick here! Have some pity! I _WILL_ pay you back – just… not yet, okay?" He didn't mention the _real_ reason he hadn't paid her back yet…

"Okay," she smiled, "See you tomorrow, okay?"

"Kay. 'night, sweet dreams, God-bless, don't let the Beedrills bite…" Ash yawned, and laid back as Misty closed the door.

"Sweet dreams, Ash,"

~v~V~v~

About an hour later, Ash was rudely – but thankfully – awakened from one hell of a freaky nightmare about two _huge_ cat-type Pokémon, completely beating the crap out of each other – by a nurse, holding a glass of water, a couple of tablets and a thermometer. She took a hold of the thermometer, lifted Ash's un-IV'd arm up, and shoved the freezing cold instrument under his armpit, before handing him two green pills and the water.

"What're they for?" he asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes, before throwing the two pills into his mouth, drinking the water and lying back down.

"Just in case you caught something off of that Zubat. It'll kill any rabies or tetanus you could have, and strengthen your immune system to…" The nurse smiled as the thermometer bleeped, and she wrote down his reading as quietly as she could. Ash had dozed off, snoring slightly. The nurse, named Casey, pulled his covers up gently, mindful of the dressing over his neck, where he'd had an operation only hours before to patch up the damage to his veins, before turning the light out, leaving Ash to sleep in peace.

~v~V~v~

At about midnight, Ash awoke again, to where the newly arrived Full Moon shone and blinked through the window of Room 13 in Azalea General.

_Pretty…_ he thought, bathing in the moon's glow again, before a strangling pain tore through his throat, and he clutched at it desperately, unable to scream for a doctor or a nurse or _someone_, _anyone_ who could help, while the choking agony got worse, as pained tears ripped down his reddened and blotched face, until, suddenly, it stopped as quickly as it had struck him. Ash collapsed, heavily, onto his pillow, breathing frantically, until he felt the trickling again on his shoulder and down his neck. _Oh no…_

He reached his left arm up frantically to get the call button as the blood continued to pour, when he was caught in the moonlight glare again, blinking demonically at him, and the blood-flow just _stopped_. In fact, it didn't stop – it ran back **_up _**his neck, and squeezed through the wound. Ash whimpered, terrified, but had no idea what to do any more, until the lunar glow invaded the small hospital room in a flash, and when the eerie blaze faded, Ash was sitting up in bed, looking so tired and exhausted, and so unfathomably scared. If you looked closer, you would have been able to see that his naturally honey-brown eyes had a greenish, glowing tinge to them, and if you had lingered at the window to Room 13 any longer, you would have seen Ash Ketchum _hiss_ at the door, like a cat… Or a bat…

With his canine teeth longer than is humanely possible for _anyone_, Ash Ketchum had a sickening grin on his face when he watched the night-nurse walk past his room…

~ T s u z u k u . . . ~

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So, am I a sicko? Yes! Actually, I wrote this as sort of an experiment – I've always wanted to do a dark-sort of fic, and well, et voila! Is it alright? Or is it unbelievably awful? Please tell me! I'm going to finish this when I get either SS or TC finished – probably after TC. Should I continue this? I'm not sure if this type of fic has been done before, but if it has, then I'm terribly sorry to the person who wrote the original.

Bad moods are good for writing evil fics, ne? ^_^

Please read and review, please? No flames, because I'll hand them to Togepi so he can burn in Hell.

Jya~! (Don't let the Zubat bite…)


	2. Walking Wounded

Pokémon isn't mine, so all you lawyers can bugger off! (Unless you actually want to READ the fic, which, in that case, be my guest!) 

Oh yeah, although Buffy the Vampire Slayer is mentioned in this, don't get me wrong. I hate the show. I think that Buffy is a slut, and the only decent character is Xander. I simply put it in, because the only other Vampire-related thing I could think of was The Count from Sesame Street, who is my hero! ^_^

Chapter two 

          _Six months later…_

          One day left.

          Ash had one day left to get to Olivine and _away_ from his friends, otherwise… the consequences would be… He couldn't do it. He couldn't take from a friend, no matter how desperate he was. It was wrong and sick and it wasn't right. He had to take something from _someone_ though. He was feeling weak and dizzy and had been all week. Brock had suggested a doctor, and claimed that Ash had "lost a lot of weight", and he was right. His shirt seemed to just hang off him, even though Ash's usual appetite hadn't changed in the slightest, his belt was loose, even though it was on the tightest notch, and he kept tripping over his trainers.

          He swirled his tongue around his incisor teeth cautiously and watched the sun set with furious colours over the horizon, and the glowering moon start to burn above him, before shoving the last of a futomaki into his mouth and swallowing dryly. It didn't matter how much he ate, now, because he always seemed to be hungry, and he knew what he was hungry _for_. And it made him want to throw up. There were times at night when he couldn't sleep for stomach pains, and he would find himself looking at Misty's pale skin with such a appalling feeling in him that he either vomited up what was left in his stomach, or he would loathe himself for days afterward. It was so torturous, though, just having her and Brock lying there, completely vulnerable to him, and oblivious to anything going on around them, that he had already had a close call with her once. While everyone else was fast asleep, on the night of the full moon three months back, whilst Pokémon Center curfew was under effect, Ash felt his canine teeth push through the soft flesh that held them in place and felt the sharp points pressing readily on his bottom lip, his eyes burning and his stomach growling violently. The window and door were locked tightly, and there was only her in the room with him, stuck after Brock had gotten tired of their bickering. Watching her sleep, scrutinising the way the shadows from the window bars danced fleetingly across her pale skin, he practically threw himself towards her, but stopped almost as instantaneously, when she mumbled incoherently in her sleep, and for a tentative moment, he thought she was awake. He watched painfully, as a smile flickered gently across her face, and she turned over in her sleep. She looked so peaceful and innocent… Tears building, he ran into the in-room toilet, and sat on the lid, pulling his knees up to his chest and feeling hot tears fall delicately down his cold skin, while he covered his mouth with both hands, until he felt a breeze blowing on the back of his neck from the window that had been foolishly left open.

          By now, he'd lost count of the amount of people he'd taken from. He was so careful – only a little, so as they would wake up, eventually. Just enough to keep him calm, but not enough to endanger the person. But the feeling of warm copper on his tongue drove him wild, an irresistible compound waltzing in his throat, and more than once, he found himself wanting to drain the person of any life whatsoever, just to satisfy himself. It was the only thing keeping him alive, water excluded. Brock was right when he said Ash had lost weight, because food simply went right through him: his body didn't need it any more; his body needed something that broke every moral and ethical code he had to take in the way he did. He just ate with a naïve hope that if he consumed enough sushi, or noodles, or okonomiyaki, or sakura-mocchi*, or drank enough of the broth Brock kept cooking, then maybe he wouldn't need to take by the next full moon. 

          His stomach ached dully, as the futomaki he'd just swallowed was rejected, in favour of the rare, metallic crimson he needed and would have to take tomorrow. Running his tongue around his teeth again, and wiping the mess of seaweed, rice and some slight remains of tiger prawn from around his lips with the back of his hand, he made a grab for his sleeping bag, neglecting to even say good-night to his friends, grabbed Pikachu, pulled her against his chest and feigned sleep, until he heard Brock and Misty go to sleep an hour later. When he was sure everyone was asleep – Brock was mumbling "please, Nurse Joy – not in public!" and "Ooh, Officer Jenny, I didn't know you could do _that_ with those handcuffs! _Hehehe_…" whereas he could see Misty's chest rising and falling evenly. He couldn't understand what was happening to him any more. His hand brushed gently against the thin purple blemish running down the side of his neck, and he felt shudders rock his frame brutally. The moon was changing visibly; he could see the final remains of the sun's shadow start to limp away in preparation for tomorrow night, and the pale white glow cast mottled shadows over the clearing they were in. The moon wasn't something to look at and admire for him any more. It was a clock; a countdown; something to fear. His former hobby of stargazing had gone right out of the window. He couldn't stand to look at Cassiopeia or Orion when he had a countdown in the corner of his eye telling him how long it was until he next destroyed his entire ethical code he'd spent a month reinforcing. The fact that all the Nurse Joys seemed to have a 'Buffy The Vampire Slayer' fixation wasn't exactly something that steeled his nerves, either. Watching some blonde-haired slut running around graveyards and shoving a stick into the back of a… vampire and watching them explode into dust wasn't something that led up to pleasant dreams. For him, anyway. Nor was watching them burn in sunlight. Okay, it seemed he was all right at the moment, but what if he changed again? What if there was a process? First the teeth, then he'd be allergic to sunlight, then what? He could turn into a Zubat at will?! The crucifix Misty always kept in the bottom of her backpack for superstitious reasons would burn through his hand? 

          Now that he thought about it, his back _was_ hurting him… he wasn't going to grow wings tomorrow, was he? Or was it because he hadn't eaten for twenty-seven days and was slowly going insane with worry? What was he going to do if they didn't get to Olivine? He _couldn't_ take from Misty… or Brock. He simply wouldn't do it.

          But then, if he did it while they were asleep… Brock would just think it was one of his perverted fantasies that he talked about in his sleep, and Misty… No. He _wouldn't_ harm her. There was no way in hell he would. He _couldn't_. It was just one of those things, a social stigma that you couldn't hit a girl, so biting them was definitely out of the question… but there were other reasons too, as to why he wouldn't. He worried his lip slightly, tilted his head back on his pillow and gazed at the stars. The Zubat constellation was pinpricking the sky delicately, tiny starts decorating its wings and the largest stars on it's… on its teeth. Momentarily, Ash wondered if he would eventually end up like that: Halloween was approaching, and old ghost stories told by Gary in a third grade sleepover at the Pokémon lab with every boy from their class came back to haunt him.

          _"Grandpa says that Zubat's are ancient vampires, trapped in the body of a bat, and at night, they come out, and they suck people's blood for food until the person hasn't any left, and then the person becomes a vampire, and sucks other people's blood so they become vampires too."_

_          "Gary, that's not true! My mom said-"_

_          "Aw, shut up, Ash! Who would people believe? Your mom or my Grandpa?"_

_          "Gary! Are you telling stories again?"_

_          "*gulp* N-no, Grandpa."_

          Ash glared at the moon, for no other reason that it made him feel a little better.

~v~V~v~

          "How far is it?"

          "About another four miles, Ash."

          "How long will that take?"

          "About another three hours, Ash."

          "Can't we go quicker?"

          "No, we can't, Ash."

          "How come?"

          Brock rolled his eyes (?) and folded the map over one arm. "Because you're banned from reading the map after your last little shortcut from Goldenrod. I'm not even going to _ask_ you, Misty, because you got us lost in the National Park. And Pikachu- can Pikachu even _read_?" Pikachu scowled and demonstrated that she could read by Thundershocking Brock into forfeit. "O…okay… Pik'chu… can read… hello nurse Joy… my name is Brock and I think you're the prettiest nurse Joy I've ever seen in the whole world and will you be my girlfriend…?" Brock fell into a charred heap on the ground: Ash yelled in triumph and snatched the map away. Scanning it quickly, he found his faint pencil line he'd drawn on the sly and smiled.

          "Shortcut!" he grinned, trailing his finger down the line carefully. Misty groaned.

          "Another one? That's the third one this month! And in case you forgot, the other two brought us nearer to Azalea Town than Olivine City, clever-clogs."

          Ash looked at her cautiously, "Yeah, I know, but I _know_ this one will get us there quicker!" He watched Misty arrange her arms around the Egg again, before she replied, 

          "Why do we need to go quicker anyway? It's about one now – Brock said it'd take three hours. If we stop for an hour, we'd still get there by about six. Why are you in such a hurry?" Ash noticeably cringed.

          "Um… no… no reason, I just wanted to get to, um, th-the Gym before it closes. Yeah, um, I want my badge!"

          "It's Sunday, Ash. All Gyms are closed today."

          "Uh… it is? Um, really? Are you sure? Um, heh, um, I guess, I um… I guess I forgot! Um, yeah! Uh…"

          "You've been acting weird." she remarked sternly, before her face softened slightly, "Are you sick?"

          Ash shook his head stubbornly, "No."

          "Are you sure?"

          "Yes! Jeez, what's with all the questions? I said I'm fine, and I meant it, okay? I just want to get to Olivine before next Christmas!" he yelled suddenly, then allowed his cheeks to flush in embarrassment, but he wouldn't apologise. He winced suddenly when he watched Misty's face cloud over, and he just knew he was going to either suffer a severe kicking, or get yelled at, until Brock spoke up. 

          "Actually, I think you should go see a doctor, tomorrow, just to be sure."

          "What?!" Ash blurted, stunned.

          "Well, Misty's right. You don't look well, and you have lost a lot of weight, you should get yourself checked out." Brock folded his arms and Misty nodded.

          Ash panicked. What if a doctor could tell what was wrong with him? What if the doctor found out? "B-but I'm _fine_" he protested, "Honest!"

          "Then you should have no problem going to the doctors tomorrow, then, will you?"

          "B-but… my badge! I want to get my badge!"

          "I'm quite sure Jasmine will be there tomorrow, or the day after."

_          "Brock!_ I don't _need_ to go! I _need_ to get my badge so I can get into the Johto League!" Ash wailed, arms outstretched in protest. Brock narrowed his eyes and stared Ash down.    

          "You're going. That's final." Brock said ultimately, the tone indicating that he would accept no further discussion on the topic. 

          "But-"

          "Pikapi! Pikapika chaaaa!" Pikachu soothed, patting Ash on the head gently, before curling back up into a ball on his cap, letting her tail brush against the nape of his neck and causing a shudder to rock his spine tauntingly, making him close dark brown eyes, and when he opened them again, he was thankful that he was now at the rear of the group, and no-one could see the dangerous green hue that embellished his eyes for a brief second, before vanishing again. 

~v~V~v~

          Ash scowled dangerously at the clock in the treatment room, as the small hand counting the seconds appeared to be making rude gestures to him every minute or so, and laughed at him with each infuriating 'tick'. He hated being in here. He hated the fact that they'd 'bumped into' the nurse from this place when they got into Olivine and Ash had 'luckily' gotten the last (7:30) appointment tonight. The clock, adorned with toothbrushes and a speech-bubble screaming "Remember, kids! Brush your teeth after every meal!" didn't make him feel any better; if anything, it infuriated him. Sitting on a stretcher, wearing nothing but a greying old pair of boxers, in a cold room with the most **annoying** radio host ever to be stuck on this earth blaring loudly from a speaker in the ceiling wasn't anyone's idea of fun. The fact that Ash had just had practically every bodily sample known to man removed from his system didn't make him feel much better. The doctor was scary too; with grey hair surrounding a bald patch, huge glasses that made his eyes swirly, a stethoscope that had probably been kept in the freezer, and please, don't even ASK about where that thermometer had come from and been *a-hem* used. Apparently, the doctor was a stickler for accuracy, and that was the only place that would give him the best result. Brock was getting his lights kicked out the minute Ash left here, because of severe humiliation.

          Wincing as masking tape tried to keep it's painful, lingering hold on the hairs on his arm, Ash eased the small ball of cotton wool from his elbow joint, and made sure that the small puncture hole had stopped bleeding, before realising how foolish he was, and sucked his finger naïvely. The slight taste of metals was somehow comforting – he couldn't explain it, and nor did he want to.

          _Pid-gey! Pid-gey! Pid-gey! Pid-gey! Pid-gey! Pid-gey! Pid-gey! Pid-gey!_

The evil Pidgey-clock now informed him that it was eight 'o clock. Which meant he had exactly four hours to make sure the others were asleep, and sneak away – either out of the window or the door, if this town's Joy was stupid – to take. His stomach growled slightly and irritably in agreement with his thoughts. He was starving now, and the whole library of questions the doctor had asked about his eating habits had made him absolutely ravenous. Sushi or miso soup or rice balls or _anything_… Jeez, the doctor even asked what his favourite _type_ of sushi was! This was so not _fair_! Now all he could think of was tuna maki and prawn onigiri and Japanese noodles, even though he _knew_ there was no point him eating them, but in all honestly, he'd prefer butterfly prawns to-

          The door swung open, and the doctor walked back in, looking oh-so-scary and imperious, making Ash cower slightly in the wake of the tall, lab-coated man, carrying a clipboard with all of Ash's data. The doctor turned around and threw Ash's clothes back at him with a brief order of "Get yourself dressed".

~v~V~v~

          Pikachu was snoring; Brock was talking in his sleep _again_ around a swollen, cut lip; the Egg was trilling it's plans for World Domination, and he just knew Misty was asleep. Dexter's glowing screen informed Ash that the time was now 11:50pm, and he had nine minutes, thirty-three seconds to go. 

Silently, with as much stealth as an Ekans, Ash crept over to the door to see if it had been left open. It creaked obscenely as it swung outwards. Making a grab for his trainers and jacket, Ash darted out on his tiptoes, down the stairs and past the Joy who was asleep at the reception desk and the Chansey who was snoring loudly in between the automatic doors and was having them opening and closing on her head. As he stepped outside, and the cool night surrounded him, he felt the by-now familiar pain in his jaw and mouth and felt the hatefully recognizable pressure on his bottom lip. He felt his eyes start to burn and he could see the emerald glow glare from his eyes in a puddle a few metres away. His senses were suddenly alert, directing him west of the Pokémon Centre, a pair of amber glowing behind him.

_~ t s u z u k u ~_

__

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          Wow, I got some really positive reviews for part one, and seeing as writer's block seems to have me down as a prime victim, I wrote this.

          LOL, I like writing this fic now! ^_^ Ash looks like a vampire-y kinda guy, to me! (But then, y'all should know that my imagination isn't the healthiest one around… ^_^) Please review, but if you _have_ to flame, make it a good one. I know I ain't the best on here, but give me some credit – I'm a Wheatus-loving, Kenji-hugging Otaku with no other life other than the Internet! ^_^

          Bubbles to everyone!!!!!


	3. Thickening

Part three! Whoo! Go me!

Is this any good? It's my first dark fic (that I've uploaded), so…

Meh. Be nice or I'll chase you with a stick!

Chapter three 

          Sidestepping puddles and keeping to the shadows, Ash made his way across Olivine City, trying to get as far away from the Pokémon Centre as possible, just in case Brock decided to jump curfew and head to a bar in one of his usual attempts to pick up women when they got to a city. It was pretty quiet, he noted, almost too quiet for a city as big as Olivine, but since the lighthouse had been fixed and given a back-up, nobody felt the need to be on standby. 

          Nobody felt the need to be walking around Olivine City at ten past midnight now, even on a Saturday night, when the clubs were full of people, heated dancers and drunken teens alike. The scent of hot blood frenzied him, but rationality kept him away from there, while the ache in his mouth increased as his fangs pulsed with desperation behind the cocked collar of his jacket that shielded his teeth from view, and his bowed head hid away his bottle-green eyes.

          But his conscience wouldn't let him drag the nearest person out into the woods or to the beach or the cliffs, drain what he wanted and leave them there, although with each transgression, it got more and more tempting, and each time, he took more and more from someone, so he was left to hunt the deserted, civilized streets.

          Ducking the lights from a passing truck, he dodged into an alleyway.

          And found what he was looking for. 

Heightened senses picked up from the breeze that she was female, around his age.

          In the dark, his acute night-vision saw that she was tying her lace, two plastic, rustling carrier bags from a 24/7 fractionally behind her. 

          He ran. 

Swift silent steps shot out from him, and he breezed across the pavement, out of her sight, striking before she could see him, before she had a chance to scream.

          Frantic, he held her up, hand across her mouth, wincing where she was biting the flesh of his palm. "I won't hurt you," he hissed, lying through his teeth, before they sunk deeply into the side of her throat, and freed her crimson essence into his mouth. She gave a choked sound as what was hers became his through pressured metal pulses. It was something even he couldn't define, but the minute copper went down his throat, he didn't seem to care about anything else, the world could go to hell, and as long as someone was bleeding addictively into his mouth, he couldn't care less about anything and anyone else.

He heard a high-pitched squeak in his arms before she fainted. _I've gone too far…_ he thought, dragging his tongue across her wound to clear the excess, and feeling the wounds heal up underneath him.

          "Pika…_pi_?!"

          He snapped his head up, instantly spotting the tiny yellow form at the end of the alley, silhouetted by a passing truck's lights, eyes wide with something he'd never seen in her eyes before.

          "Oh God… Pikachu…" Carefully, he laid his victim on the floor, and took a pace towards her, reaching a hand out to her. "Pikachu, before you do anything, you gotta hear me out- hey!" he cried out when a thunderbolt narrowly missed his outstretched hand. Nursing it, he sent a reproachful look at her. "Hey, what did I tell you about shocking first, asking questions later?" She took one tiny step backwards, streetlights shining on her puddle-soaked fur, staring as though he was a stranger; not even a stranger, but a despised one, an enemy. He saw a wildness in her eyes that he'd only seen once before, when she was his first, and she shocked him (and most of his family) in the middle of Pallet Town. "I won't hurt you, please, I can't help this," he ventured, taking another step.

          "Pika!"

          "Don't run, Pikachu, if you're my friend, you won't run away."

          But the sight of someone else's blood trickling out of the corner of Ash's mouth and down his chin was something even Pikachu wouldn't stick around to see; the instinct to run like hell took control, and she shot from the alley, around the corner and back towards the Centre.

"Aw shit…" His feet shot out again as he sprinted and gave chase, hurtling down the deserted night-streets to the shortcut he found back to the Pokémon Centre, just in time to see every single light blaze on simultaneously, two high-pitched screams, one of which sounded relatively normal, the other as though someone had gotten their zipper caught in an ungodly place, then trapped in a door, then a violent, claw-happy kitty on the other side. Dragging his arm over his mouth again and licking off anything left, he made a bolt for the door before it locked again.

~v~vVv~v~****

Brock sighed despondently, wincing as Pikachu's claws dug into his broad shoulder and her paws yanked at his frizzed, static hair nervously. "Ash, I've told you a thousand times, I'll tell you again – do _not_ let an obviously gore-virgin Pokémon watch a horror-movie. Got it? And for the love of Myuu, what made you go running around Olivine City at midnight? This isn't Pallet, you know – people don't _just_ carry a level five Caterpie in their pockets - in the cities, they carry weapons, and Charizard and Nidoking, and some sickos out there _like_ _boys_ like you." The emphasis on 'like' and 'boys' made Misty, sitting on her bed watching the argument unfold and teasing her hair out of its static position to something she could sleep in, shudder.

Ash, however, stood his ground. "I'm not ten years old anymore, Brock. And I didn't just go "running around" – I went for a walk. And I had Cyndaquil with me – I'm not stupid, either."

"That's not the point, Ash, and Cyndaquil's still just a baby. What the hell made you go out for a walk in the middle of the night?! And how did you get out – Joy locks the doors at eleven, you know that."

"She was asleep at front desk, and I have my reasons."

"Reason enough to leave Pikachu behind? And I still don't get where she's got this vampire thing up – she lit up the whole Centre, she was that scared."

Ash was silent for a moment, thinking of an excuse; out of the corner of his eye, he could see Misty rummaging in her bag, which led to a mental picture of the superstitious crucifix she kept at the bottom of her bag. "I wasn't looking where I was going and hit a streetlight – bit my tongue, that's all, and she saw the blood." Pikachu shook her head frantically; his chest constricted in anguish when he saw her paws digging further into Brock's tangled hair. "And I just wanted to think, that's all – I do it all the time, just you guys are always asleep." Well, a part-truth, anyway, only thinking wasn't all he did.

Slightly affronted that Ash hadn't wanted to talk to him instead of running rampant, Brock relented, scratching Pikachu behind her ears slightly so that her hind claws eased themselves out of the flesh of his back, before sitting heavily on his bed. "Alright, though I think you're dumb to be running around strange cities after dark, and I doubt your mom would be too happy either, but…" he yawned, stretching his arms, "don't scare Pikachu by running into lights, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Ash shrugged, reaching out his hands to peel Pikachu from Brock's shoulder, but yanking them back with a regretful look when she aimed a static shock towards him and glared at him with terror-fuelled fury.

"Ah, don't worry about it, she's probably still a little bit freaked. I'll take her tonight, okay?"

"… I guess…"

"Oh, and Ash, before you turn in, you might wanna wash your face – you must have a bruise where you cracked yourself before." Raising his hand to his chin, Ash felt dried blood he must have missed before flake onto his fingers. 

"Right…"

The bathroom light was dim, so Ash didn't notice it at first, head bowed as he splashed lukewarm water onto his face and seeing the flannel turn a pale shade of brown when he wiped his face over, as well as the white of the toothpaste foam when he brushed his teeth and chased away metal with mint. But when he looked in the small mirror on the wall to un-plaster his wet fringe from his face, he blinked.

And blinked again.

Reaching out with one hand, he rubbed at the thin film on condensation on the mirror and double-checked the ochre shade staring back at him, and then rubbed his eyes, and double-checked the mirror, just in case, but nothing had changed. Oh, the mirror still showed his body in the glass, but there was something missing. 

Like, oh, say, his eyes? In their place made his face look like a badly-smeared painting, a wide blur of a weird fog that almost looked like it was inside the mirror, but somehow over his face at the same time.

_Man, I need sleep,_ Ash thought, rubbing the back of his hand over his seemingly nonexistent eyes and stifling a yawn, before padding through the door and creeping into bed, closing his eyes and burying his head under the pillow when he heard Pikachu's nightmares.

~v~vVv~v~****

"OH MY GOD!"

Brock shot up out of bed when he heard Nurse Joy's scream, and, forgetting to make himself decent (ie, wearing more than a pair of greying boxers and two odd socks), charged out of the room, swinging the door open with a loud bang when it crashed into the wall, which scared Pikachu into a Thunderbolt, which in turn woke up both Misty, still static-haired from the night before, and Ash, who, surprisingly, had had one of the best sleeps in days. 

"One day, I'm going to drain your thunder, Pik'chu," Misty yawned, rubbing her eyes and giving up on her hair, figuring out it could wait until she was more than half-awake. "Wonder what the fire is," she muttered, watching three half-dressed Trainers pass their open door towards reception.

"Beats me," Ash replied, stretching and reaching for where his jeans were hanging over the side of the bed, grinning when he realised his stomach wasn't aching anymore. 

This had its pluspoints, after all.

Shoving his feet haphazardly into his trainers and jamming his hat onto his head, both Ash and Mist followed the latest batch of Trainers making their way to Reception, where crowds of people were huddled near the tiny portable TV set in the corner of the room, watching the breakfast news of Johto's major news station. 

"_…Olivine City's Police Force are currently appealing to any witnesses who were in the downtown area of the city at around one am this morning. Again, we'll be bringing you updates as we get the information from our regional correspondents. Just before we move onto other news, again, the main headline is that the Olivine City Gym Leader Jasmine Michaels is currently in intensive care after an assault early this morning. In other news, the Mayor of Blackthorn City is to stand down later this year…"_

Ash, pale and unmoving, stared at the tiny box in between the gaps in heads, hearing a buzz of hushed whispers from concerned locals and rookie self-absorbed Trainers, complaining when would they get their badge, as well as a Chansey clearing the way for a troop of three officers, each armed with a clipboard. Dimly, he became aware of Misty gripping his arm tightly, Brock heading towards the pair with a stern look on his face, then gripping Ash by the other arm and hauling him back to the room, motioning to Misty to scat.

"Do you know what this is about?" he asked sternly, the minute he shut the door, leaning against it and blocking the way out.

"No," Ash replied quickly. Brock relaxed slightly.

"Good. I just overheard Joy talking before – the security cameras were fried in Pikachu's overexcitement last night."

Ash blinked slowly. Brock sighed in exasperation.

"…And I know you wouldn't normally do this, nor should you do it again, but no matter what the police say, you _did not_ leave this Centre after curfew, got it?"

"Isn't that lying?"

"I prefer to think of it as saving your ass." Brock raked a hand through his messy hair and sighed. "If you tell the police you went walkabout last night, they'll haul you in for questioning like that," he snapped his fingers, "and we'll be stuck here until this whole damn thing gets figures out." 

Ash nodded, then grinned. "Wow, Brock, I didn't expect you to have such a devious side!"

Sighing melodramatically, Brock waggled a hand in the air, "Well, it comes of telling ten siblings that I don't have their candy, dolly, ball, et cetera when in reality they're in the closet." Shrugging, he cleared his throat and made for the door. "I just have to talk to Misty about what we agreed, okay? Remember – you didn't leave the Centre, got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Now make your bed."

When Brock grabbed his shirt and jeans and left the room hopping, forcing one leg into his pants while both his arms were tangled in his shirt, however, Ash stopped in the middle of laying his duvet out and slowly sank to the floor, gripping the fabric in his shaking hands. He couldn't have gotten Jasmine, there was just no way of it… whoever he'd gotten had tasted his age, maybe younger… Jasmine was anything from two to five years older than him…

Unless…

There was a blank space in his memory in between the girl he took from and leaving the Pokémon Centre, where he remembered passing the Gym in his trek across the city – could it have happened then? But if that was so, what of the girl who passed out in his arms? He shook out his pillow violently, trying to chase thought from his head. There was no way he'd gotten Jasmine, absolutely no way. 

"Pi…?"

Stirring from her position at the foot of Brock's bed, and relatively undisturbed, despite the current events, and apparently having fallen back asleep, Pikachu looked around blearily, caught sight of Ash, caught sight of the locked door, and blanched. Ash held his hands up in surrender instantly. "Pikachu, whatever you do, you're going to have to hear me out sometime or other."

"Chu," she said stubbornly, shaking her head and folding her arms. "Pika."

Ash shot her a dark look. "Same to you, too," he muttered, not quiet enough for her sharp hearing, and got a bolt narrowly missing his toe. "Whatever you think of me, just let me explain."

"_Pi_kachu! Pikapi cha pichupi!"

"Well, I guess you could call me that…"

~v~vVv~v~

When Ash and Pikachu came down an hour later, the Pokémon Centre foyer was in organized chaos. Various Police Officers were writing down statements from various Trainers, Nurse Joy and Officer Jenny were deep in conversation behind the front desk and the Johto news channel was still blaring in the corner to a group – Brock and Misty included – of Trainers milling in small packs. Ash slipped between three such groups and rested his hands on Misty's shoulders. 

"What's going on?" he asked, standing on his tiptoes so that he could peer around her ponytail to where the presenter was reporting something else, the picture of a teenage girl in the top right corner of the screen. She looked at him with grave eyes, biting her lip and nodding towards the TV. Ash felt his stomach knot. "One of Jasmine's Gym Trainers was attacked last night too. The Johto League have closed all the Gyms in the region, just in case."

He felt his eyes widen, though he couldn't tell whether it was choreographed or spontaneous, though when his chest clenched up, he knew it was spontaneous.

Spontaneous guilt, that is.

"No way," he breathed, feeling her nod under his hands, "What happened?"

"Nobody's sure," Brock answered, "all the news have said is that they found her in an alleyway downtown unconscious and that Officer Jenny isn't linking it to Jasmine yet."

"Any word on Jasmine?"

"Nope. They aren't saying anything until her family are informed."

"It's that serious?"

"Uh-huh."

"Whoa…"

"So… you guys want to go for breakfast? We're not getting anything done standing around here all day, and there's no point us moving on, considering all the Gyms are closed until further notice." Brock stretched slightly, wincing at a crick in his neck and swayed gently on his heels. "Joy" his face went bright red "said there's a decent pancake place down the street."

Togepi gave an excited trill, plotting world domination via pancake syrup, Misty nodded with slightly less enthusiasm, and Ash just nodded, tagging behind. 

"You think they'll go for other Gym Leaders?" he heard Misty ask worriedly to Brock, quietly. He watched Brock's stride stiffen slightly, his shoulders stretch as if going into defensive mode.   
          "We don't even know what's going on yet, Misty, so don't worry." Though even Ash, trailing behind and only catching the minimum of the conversation, could hear the silent "yet" in his mind, and clenched his fist tightly, blaming himself for Misty's paranoia.

So could Pikachu, tail dead straight down his back, claws digging slightly into his shoulder. 

          [A/N] I know, this part was slow, but I have much angst planned for this fic.

          Much, much angst, and darkystuff. Ooooooh. 

          Should I make this into a twisted AAML-thingy, or just leave Ash to suffer? Either way, this fic is screwed up. ^^ bit like the author, really.

          Ciao!


	4. Prickles

Wow, thank you for the reviews! I appreciate it, and it's very interesting the way you guys think this is going! ^^

Pokémon and all its characters don't belong to me – I only own the plot, and even that's probably nicked off someone!

Theme song: "The Invasion From Within" – Tsunami Bomb

^^

Chapter four 

          The rest of that fortnight, Joy kept a roll call of every Trainer to come into the Olivine Pokémon Centre, and of every Trainer who tried to leave.

          Note the key word of _tried_, if you will. Those who tried were subjected to a lengthy police interview, a call to their parents and whichever Official gave them their Pokémon and a Police escort to Goldenrod City. The Johto League was still in uproar, with half the leaders wanting to carry on as normal (most notably Chuck, who got very emotional and spent half of the board meeting sobbing into Machoke's arms) and the other half not wanting to risk any more Gym Leaders and Trainers. The news reported that the Kanto League had also called a meeting at Indigo Plateau for all Gym Leaders, which had Misty in a two-hour panic attack at the fact that her sisters were currently Gym Leaders in charge, and Brock at the fact that either nine siblings would be left running riot at home, or that nine siblings would be running riot at Indigo HQ.

          And Ash… for the first few days, was too caught up in the euphoria that he didn't have killer pains wracking his stomach to care, the fact that he couldn't feel the way his stomach knotted whenever he swallowed something that wasn't blood, the fact he could actually hold a conversation with someone, especially Misty, without his eyes automatically locating the veins on their neck. The only annoying thing, he realised, was that he couldn't see into mirrors properly, but when he wasn't tripping over his shoes for the first time in months, mirrors could wait. 

          The Doctor's report had failed to find out just what was wrong with Ash, prescribed him about ten different things to put in his food (all of which were now safely under lock-and-key in Brock's bag), sent some more blood away for extra tests and told them he'd call Joy if anything came back.

          Standing in the foyer, eyes closed, leaning against the wall with an expression of indifference, Ash was waiting for Misty to come down from the room, arms folded and trying to ignore where Brock had finally snapped back into his "Nurse Joy! *glomp*" mood and was offering to show her his "recommended" breeding tips. 

          "Is he _still_ fawning?"

          Blinking, Ash looked up from where he was leaning on the wall, and saw Misty glaring slightly at where Brock was now serenading Joy with old Tom Jones lyrics, and cutting it close to a citation for indecent conduct. "Um… yeah," he said, trying to hide where his cheeks had flushed by bowing his head and to one side. 

          "Mou," she spat, irritated, and Togepi trilled too, "you'd think that for _once_ he'd get a clue, but noooo, Brock has to try it on with every girl he sees."

          "He doesn't try it on with you," Ash said, more out of thought than in reply, and cowered when she glared at him, and yelled that it was with good reason, that if he ever did, he'd find himself waking out of a coma thirty years later.

          "Anyway," she said, instantly calm, as per usual, "Togepi needs shell-cleaner. Think you can manage a walk to the Pokémart?"

          He felt masculine pride puff in his chest and he looked at her cockily. "Easily," he replied, easing himself off the wall with his elbows and looking her over in a mock-superior way. "Race?"

          She gave a quick nod, before shooting off towards the doors, taking full advantage of the head start he always gave her. Grinning, he stretched his legs slightly before hunting after her. 

--

          Early evening slowly set in, the stars picking out their light in the late Johto sky, Ash, still ruddy-cheeked from his sprint an hour earlier, was dozing off on a couch in the centre's Trainer's lounge, head lolling near where Brock was reading a book about Dark-Type Evolution and Breeding, faintly hearing Pikachu's calls and Togepi's trills as they played a Pokémon form of Stick-tag with Cyndaquil, Totodile and Pineco, who always seemed to get caught, and through half-closed eyes, watching Misty watching Discovery Channel and David Attenborough explain the mating habits of Seel and Dewgong and wincing his eyes when he realised that the combination of Misty and "dirty, hot animal-sex", as Brock called it, wasn't exactly a good thing to react to in public. He rolled over, feeling his hat fall off and brush the back of his neck as it flopped onto the floor, but he dismissed it, rubbing one eye sleepily and yawning, exhausted by indolence, wanting both sleep and to be a good five or six miles outside of Olivine and his sleeping bag rolled out underneath a large, leafy tree. 

          As he settled onto his side, however, his stomach lurched, and his eyes burned for a brief second, before it passed. Shrugging uncomfortably, he cricked his neck and rested his head back on his arm, chewing his lip as he tried to get comfortable with how his skin strangely kept prickling and stinging with each movement. "Ash?" Brock queried when Ash smacked his leg (by accident) for the fourth time in a row, "If you can't sleep down here, why don't you just _ask_ me for the key and go up the room?" A few moments later, something jingly and pokey thumped to land on Ash's chest, and Brock had resumed reading his book. Dragging himself wearily up, he found his way to the stairs, wincing when each movement of his shirt on the back of his neck stung like a thousand Beedrill. Shrugging his shirt off halfway down the corridor and having one arm under the hem to open the door, Ash dumped it on the floor and headed to the tiny en-suite, yanking Brock's backpack down from the closet on his way and hunting for the chamomile lotion Brock usually kept for when Misty ended up getting sunburnt in the middle of spring. His neck cricked when he shrugged off his shirt and craned his neck to see his back in the tiny Pokémon Centre mirror, eyes widening when he saw the bright red patch on his upper back, around where his collar had been, and stinging worse in the open air than it had been downstairs with cotton rubbing against it. A few choice expletives cursed their way out of his mouth, not just because of how the lotion felt as it hit his skin, and he looked pathetically over his shoulder at where the lotion had left long yellow streaks mixed in with the red where he couldn't reach properly. This was getting serious if he was getting sunburnt in mild weather, and with his skin. Would he start burning literally come summer? Maybe he'd just burn into a puff of smoke, leaving nothing behind but a scorch mark and his clothes. Maybe they'd go to the beach one day. Maybe Pikachu and Togepi would be building a sandcastle and start using his ashes as sand by mistake. 

          And maybe he was hyperventilating when, in the tiny mirror, he saw some of the skin on his back start to peel, and fall to land in the sink. "Damn," he muttered. So not only was he a blood-drinker, but now the human version of a snowman. 

          Just great. 

He cricked his neck again and grabbed the nearest towel and tossed it in the sink, spinning the cold tap to full flow and watching the cotton thing soak up more water, trying to focus on the sudden jet of cold air that shot up from the bowl and hearing Pikachu scuttling around outside with Togepi, Misty letting them into the room.

          Misty.

          Crap! He couldn't let her see him with his back like that. And he certainly wasn't putting his shirt back on yet. Time to improvise… Grabbing the towel, he wrung it out over his head, trying not to let the tears that sprung up in his eyes fall when some fat droplets fell onto his back, and swung it around so it draped over his back, like a cape, and tried to ignore when the water soaked into the back of his pants before opening the door. 

"You washed your _hair_?!" Misty gasped when he poked his head through the door. "You _never_ wash your hair!"

He blanched inwardly, trying to think of an excuse while she retold the story of how the last time he voluntarily washed his hair, it was because Pikachu had eaten too much ketchup and couldn't take the bumpy ride that she usually had on top of his head. "Uh, you threw shell-cleaner at me before cos I beat you to the PokéMart." He cocked a cheeky grin. "Unless you were planning to burn my face off, that is." Shrugging, she nodded and flopped onto her bed.

Relief flooded Ash's stomach. Hell, if Misty was fooled, he _must_ be getting good at it. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, though, to be a good liar. It wasn't like he was some sort of modern Odysseus, lauded for his deceitful tales, rather, he had something to hide, and would suffer the consequences if it was told.

But on that tangent, maybe, he was _exactly_ like Odysseus, and everything would fall into place, ordained by fate, and not his own actions. He could delay it, or have it delayed – not that he had any idea as to how – how could one stop a metamorphosis of body and instinct? But no matter what he did, something was building up to happen, and he would have to face it, life or death, love or loathe, better or worse. 

He already hated fate as it was. He hated the whole philosophy that nothing he did was a result of his own actions and his own merits and his own hard work, but some random guy had the nerve to decide the lives of the billions of people on the planet. If Ash did something, he wanted to be able to think that it was down to him, not that, say, if he fought a battle, no matter what the outcome, he would have won, even if he had sent a Caterpie up against Drake's Dragonite. And even now, he liked to think that this was still down to him, that it was _him_ who ran into the cave, it was _him_ who pissed off the Zubat… but Brock had been bitten by his own Zubat plenty of times when it was dental-check-up time, and this hadn't happen. In fact, Brock, in the middle of July, was quite fond of walking around topless (trying to impress anything remotely female and serving only to gain a few appreciative glances from Chikorita) and not burning after he'd spent all day in the sun. 

          So what the hell was going on with his own fate? Was he just some kiddie ghost story come reality? Or was this yet _another_ legend that wanted to kill him? Flopping down onto his own bed, he bit down a yelp and, casually trying not to cry, rolled over onto his stomach and tried to shut out any more brooding thoughts from his head. Pessimism pissed him off, too, he realised, casting a sly glance at Misty from the corner of his eye. It wasn't like him _not_ to be optimistic.

--

          "Did you hear?"

          "No, what?"

          "Excuse me?"

          "This about Jasmine?"

          "What about Jasmine?"

          "Is the Gym re-opening?"  
          "Do you think about _anything_ other than your badges?"

          "Can I have your attention? Please?""

"Nah, it's better than that."

          "Of course I think of things other than my badges – I think about my Cyndaquil a lot…"

          "Better than about Jasmine, though it's definitely about her… well, that's what this guy told me in the pancake house before."

          "There was a guy in the pancake house? What'd he say?"

          "Well, apparently…"

          Joy, standing on the reception counter, climbed to the top, put her fingers in her mouth, and let rip a piercing whistle, causing both Trainers and hearing-sensitive Pokémon alike to wince and spin around to face her. "Thank you," she sighed, relieved, "As you're all aware, Gyms in the Johto region have been closed for the past two weeks after what happened. However, the League decided last night that in order for this year's competition to go ahead, the Gyms will be reopened. All those who wish to leave Olivine City, however, due to extra security, must have written permission from both myself and Officer Jenny…" 

Ash, standing near the back with Misty and Brock, cricked his neck, still stinging from the burn-type thing on his back, and folded his arms behind his head. "So what do you guys wanna do?" he asked. "I mean, the Gym here won't be open for another two weeks until the League hire a new Trainer at least, so we're pretty stuck…"

Brock whipped out his ever-present Johto guidebook. "Well, you haven't been to Cianwood City yet, Ash – I guess we could get the ferry over there… you can get a badge there and Misty and I can check out the Whirl caves – the book says there's a lot of Water Pokémon there."

Already twisted at the mention of a badge, clicking onto the way Misty's eyes lit up at the mention of water-types sealed the deal, and not half an hour later, Ash found himself waiting in line at Olivine Harbour for the next ferry to Cianwood, lazily watching small fishing boats and ripples from the odd Magikarp flopping around drift past the landing stage, looking to where the moon hung in the afternoon sky, white and blue shades changing shape once a day.

[a/n] Apologies for the shortness, but this was largely a bridge-part – the fun definitely starts soon. Still debating on the twisted Sakaness of it. I've got about eight epilogues written out, three my current favourites. The plot's definitely going to thicken up (and speed up – I want to actually finish a chaptered fic by the end of the year! RB is literally killing me ^^;) starting next chapter, which is already halfway done – and I'm toying with upping the rating, too. ^^ But don't worry – we're about half-way towards the end now!


End file.
